


No Regrets

by Seraph_Novak



Series: Destiel One-Shots [24]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adorable Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Castiel, Chance Meetings, Dean Has a Crush, First Dates, Fluff, Funeral, Happy Ending, Human Castiel, Kind Castiel, Lonely Castiel, M/M, One Shot, POV Castiel, Priest Castiel, Rain, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 13:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11670333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraph_Novak/pseuds/Seraph_Novak
Summary: While Castiel is hosting an empty funeral for a homeless man, a soaking wet stranger wanders into his church. If it weren't for the rain, they never would've met. Maybe it means nothing. Or maybe it means everything...





	No Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for almost two years, but never got around to writing it until now. I love priest!Cas, I love gentleman!Dean, I love rainy scenes, and I love chance meetings. In fact, I love this verse so much, I was almost tempted to turn this into a multi-chapter fic... But then the rational part of my brain reminded me that I've already got two other ideas on hold, so no. I might write a few timestamps in the future though.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated! I really enjoyed writing this fic, and I hope you enjoy reading it as well. Thank you so much! ♥
> 
> P.S. It's half one in the morning, so apologies for any mistakes.

His name is Alfred Zalponi. Or, at least, it _was_. They found him on a park bench yesterday morning. When no one stepped up to identify the body, he was tossed into a nameless casket and sent to the church for a 'quickie' funeral. If it weren't for the elderly lady who recognised his description in the obituary column, he would have died nameless too.

Castiel runs a hand over Zalponi's suit jacket. It was lent to him from a local funeral home. The material is cheap, with the lingering scent of tobacco, but it's better than the rain-soaked rags he arrived in.

He fixes Zalponi's tie, smoothes his hair into place.

"Be at peace, brother," he whispers. In the quiet emptiness of the church, his words sound like a clap of thunder.

A sweet melody plays in the background. Castiel looks across the church, at the empty pews, and sends up a silent prayer for Zalponi's safe arrival. It's a sad but fitting service for an invisible man, forgotten and overlooked by society. He wonders how many times he passed him in the street without a sideways glance. For this, he is sorry.  

At precisely eight o'clock, the service begins.

He says the usual prayers and offers his commiserations to an empty room. Zalponi's casket is closed at 8:24. The rain patters against the windows, saying its final goodbyes. He puts on his coat as the music loops back around to the first track. It's all over now.

As he's turning off the lights, the doors to the church open with a familiar creak. The sound of the rain slips inside for half a second before they close again. A man walks in, shakes the rain off his shoulders. He's wearing a leather jacket, but no coat. Castiel can hear the water dripping onto the floor from the opposite side of the room.

He clears his throat.

"Excuse me, sir," he says. "Are you alright?"

The man looks up. Beneath the dark hair plastered against his forehead, a pair of green eyes meets his gaze. For a moment, he just stares at him. But then his eyes drift to Zalponi's casket, and a light blush spreads across his freckled cheeks.  

"Oh, fuck," he curses. "I mean, _shit_. I mean crap! I didn't -"

"It's quite alright."

"I didn't know there was a funeral going on in here."

"Well, it's a public funeral, so you're more than welcome. This man had no family."  

"Oh. That sucks."

Castiel hums. "You're very wet."

"Yeah. It's, uh… It's really coming down out there."

"So you thought you'd seek salvation in the Lord's house?"

"Um. That's allowed, right?"

"Of course," he waves at the front pews. "Take a seat. As you can see, you're spoilt for choice."

The man walks up the aisle, awkwardly ringing his wet sleeves along the way. There's something quite endearing about the sheepish smile that touches his full lips. He is, what most would say, conventionally handsome.

"Thanks, man. Just gotta wait until it calms down a bit. I thought I'd take a chance and walk to work today. Look where trying to be healthy gets ya."

Castiel chuckles. "Maybe you were supposed to come into my church today."

"You think so, huh?"

"Well, God _does_ work in mysterious ways."

"Ah. The good ol' company line."

"You're not a regular church goer, are you? I've never seen you before."

"Nah, not really," the man rubs the back of his neck. "Truth be told, I'm not much of a believer. I only came in here 'cause it was the closet place still open."

"I won't question your motives."

"Thanks," he shrugs. "I'm Dean, by the way. I guess I just call you 'father', right?"

"You can call me Castiel."

" _Dude_. Seriously?"

"I was named after the angel of Thursday."

"Born into the job, huh?"

"I suppose so."

Dean nods at Zalponi's casket. "No family? How did they find him?"

"He was homeless. They found him on a park bench."

"Was he sick?"

"I'm not sure. He was frozen cold. This time of year is especially cruel for those living on the streets."

"Aw, man. Poor guy."

Castiel tilts his head to the side. It's rare to see such humanity nowadays. Dean seems genuinely sympathetic for a man he never knew. For some reason, that warms his heart. He feels himself smile as he watches the sopping stranger walk up to the casket and place a hand on top. Dean murmurs something he can't hear, then goes back to his seat.

"You're very kind," he says. "Empty services are always hard."

"No one deserves to go out that way."

"I agree."

When the conversation reaches a lull, Castiel starts to tidy up. He takes the flowers from the casket and puts them into a vase in the back room. There's a box with Zalponi's possessions sitting on the desk. He didn't have much - just a spare jacket, a pair of gloves, and a ring with the engraving worn down to nothing but a smudge. He wonders why the ring isn't on Zalponi's finger. It's sad to think he once had a life and a family, and yet none of them had the decency to turn up to his funeral.   

"Are you okay, man?"

Castiel drops the ring back into the box. Dean is standing in the doorway, his jacket still streaming with water.

"Oh. Yes, I… I'm quite alright, thank you."

"You sure?"

"Really, I'm okay."

"You just looked kinda zoned out there for a sec. Away with the fairies, ya know?"

Castiel smiles. He likes the way Dean talks.

"I was looking through Alfred Zalponi's things. He didn't have much, as you can imagine. It's just a little upsetting."

"But he's going to heaven, right?"

"Are you asking me that because I'm a priest, or because you'd like to have a little faith of your own?"

Dean chuckles. "I guess I'm just the kinda guy who likes to know his destination, is all."

"I can understand that."

"So you think everything happens for a reason?"

"Not all Christians believe in predestination. Some of us just want to be reassured that when we leave this place, we leave without sorrow or regrets."

"You're always gonna have regrets."

"But I've always done what I've believed is right," he says. "That's got to count for something, doesn't it?"

Dean just looks at him for a moment. He feels like he's being studied with those moss-green eyes, the furrow in Dean's brow making his toes curl. It's only when Dean's face softens that he can relax. There's a fondness in the face staring back at him; for some reason, it makes his head feel light, and his stomach heavy. He's not sure what to do with that.

"You want some help with this stuff?" Dean asks.

"I, I thought you were trying to get back home? The rain is slowing down now."

"My house is still gonna be there when I'm done."

"Not necessarily. A tornado could come along and snatch it up. You really can't be prepared for these things."

Dean laughs. It's quite beautiful, the way he throws his whole head back. Castiel suddenly feels like lying down and taking a couple aspirin. Lord knows what's gotten into him, but he's certainly not feeling himself at the moment.

"Dude, you're pretty funny."

"I, um… Thank you."

"C'mon. Gimme some jobs to do. I'm a handyman, trust me."

Castiel shrugs. "This was a very basic funeral, Dean. There really is nothing you can do."

"Well, why are _you_ still here then?"

"I'd only just finished the service when you came in."

"So you've been hanging around for _my_ sake?"

"I thought you might be troubled."

"Does the church even close?"

"It closes when I leave," he says. "And that's usually quite late."

Dean takes him gently by the elbow. The skin beneath his fingertips tingles, and Castiel has no idea why. Perhaps he should see a doctor.

"I wanna buy you a coffee," Dean tells him. He doesn't ask him, he _tells_ him.

"I, I don't see why you'd want to do that."

"Maybe 'cause you seem like a pretty cool guy?"

Castiel swallows thickly. His mouth is very dry all of a sudden. Up close, he can see the freckles dusting Dean's sun-kissed skin. He's fairly positive he's never seen such beauty in a person before in his life. It's almost scary.

"Where does your church stand on the whole 'guys buying other guys coffee' kinda thing?"

"Buying coffee isn't a sin…"

"No," Dean grins. It makes the skin around his eyes crinkle slightly. "I mean, like a date. Me taking _you_ on a date. A date with coffee. Or, I mean, we could go anywhere."

Castiel blinks. "You, you want to take me on a date?"

"Look, man, if you're not into that -"

"I'm just not very familiar with dating. My social skills leave a lot to be desired."

"What're you talking about? We've been having a conversation for twenty minutes now."

"Yes," he narrows his eyes. "Yes, we have… How peculiar."

"Well, I'm gonna take it as a good sign."

Castiel looks down at himself - at his black clothes and white collar, at the fingers still curled around his elbow. He's never believed that sexuality has anything to do with religion, but he's not even sure what his sexuality _is_. Such things have always seemed so trivial to him. Until now, at least.

"I've never been on a date before," he says. "I spend all my time at church, and _honestly_ … No one's ever paid me any interest."

"That's their loss."

"I don't know what a date entails."

"It's just a coffee date, Cas. You and me enjoying a coffee, and talking like we are now. This ain't a prank or anything. I just wanna get to know you more."

"But, but why?"

"'cause you're kind, you're funny, you're sexy as he- well, _sexy_. And," he licks his lips. "Dating a man of the cloth sounds kinda hot."

Castiel smiles down at his shoes. Dean might be a little crass on the surface, but he obviously has a big heart. He's also very attractive, and Castiel has heard that looks are a bonus when it comes to dating. Not that he cares too much about that sort of thing. He's more drawn to Dean's smile and twinkling eyes than anything else. That, and his endearing personality of course. Not everyone would take the time to pay their respects to a man they never met, and offer to help out another stranger in the same day. In the same _hour_.

"You seem very nice," he says. "And I'd very much like to go on a coffee date with you."

Dean runs a hand through his dripping hair, suddenly shy. The way his cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink as he squeezes Castiel's elbow one last time makes his heart clench a little in his chest. Is this what it always feels like? Is dating always this exhilarating?

"Awesome. That's, that's awesome."

"I should probably give you my phone number?"

"Uh, yeah! Here, lemme write it down for you," Dean takes a pen from his jacket and holds out his hand. When Castiel takes it, Dean pulls up his sleeve and starts scribbling the digits across his bare arm. " _Man_. I haven't done this since I was sixteen."

"Should I write my number on your arm now?"

"Yeah, that'd be good."

His jaw hurts from smiling as he writes his own number onto Dean's skin. His arms are well toned and warm to the touch, despite the rain water leeching through his jacket. There are freckles splattered all over his arm. He tries to count as many as he can, but eventually, his number comes to an end, and he has to let go.

"Is it weird that we're doing this at a funeral?"

"I don't see why."

"Well, I mean… What if the guy was homophobic?"

"I guess we'll never know."

Dean chuckles. "Our date's gonna take place in a more romantic setting, don't worry."

"I thought you said coffee dates were casual?"

"Maybe I'll take you to some fancy-ass bistro on our second date."

"Second date?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to live with no regrets," he says with a wink. "And I'm damn well sure I'd regret not holding onto someone like you for as long as I can."

Castiel laughs. He may be blushing. He's not sure. He hasn't done much blushing in his lifetime. Why a soaking wet stranger somehow how has the ability to make him bashful is a mystery he's determined to solve.

"The rain has stopped," he points out. "I should call the crematorium."

"Little late for that, isn't it?"

"I'm well acquainted with the people over there. Mr. Zalponi's funeral had to take place after opening hours, so they'll be expecting my call around this time."

"Why'd it have to take place after opening hours?"

"He's lucky he had a funeral at all," Castiel sighs. "A lot of unclaimed bodies simply get cremated without a service; their ashes sit on a shelf in a plastic bag for years. I try to redirect as many deceased to the church as I can, but we only have so much funding…"

"That really sucks."

"Indeed."

"But at least you give a shit, right? I mean, _crap_. Uh, sorry."

Castiel shrugs. "The value of a person's life shouldn't be based on how much they earn, or where they sleep at night. Mr. Zalponi deserved a funeral just as much as everyone else."

"You're really passionate about this, huh?"

"Well, I love people."

Dean smiles. It's a wonderful sight that Castiel is quickly becoming addicted to.

"I'd offer to drive you home, but I haven't owned a car in fifteen years."

"What?!" Dean balks. "I couldn't go one day without my baby! How the hell d'you get from A to B without a fricking car?"

"I live right across the street, and I rarely leave town."

"Okay, scrap the coffee."

"Y-You've changed your mind about our date because I don't own a car?"

"What? No! No, no, no… I mean, scrap the coffee, 'cause you and me are going for a ride in my baby for our first date."

Castiel frowns. "That sounds suspiciously like the start of a true crime documentary."

"I'm not gonna _kill_ you, Cas. We're just gonna drive around a few places, play some kickass music, get some greasy drive-through food… And if I'm feeling generous, maybe I'll let you sit on my baby's hood while we watch the sunset. I know a good place with an awesome view."

"On top of the hill behind that old farmhouse?"

"Yeah! What - How did you know?"

"I go there a lot, mostly to rehearse my sermons. It's the best place to watch the sunset."

Dean licks his lips again. He seems to do that quite a bit (not that he's complaining). It's actually quite sweet, if not strangely enticing.

"Are you free now?"

"Dean, it-it's wet outside, and I still need to call the crematorium -"

"I can wait around."

"The sun set over an hour ago."

"Then let's wait for it to rise again."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "You can't honestly be suggesting we spend the whole night together on our first date?"

"Why the hell not? I mean, _why_ not? I keep forgetting we're in a church, sorry."

"There are many reasons why we shouldn't do this."

"And what about the many reasons why we _should_ do this?"

"I, I don't -"

"Live with no regrets, remember?" Dean takes him by the shoulders. "I've got plenty of them already, but I ain't gonna let this night add to the list."

Castiel looks at Zalponi's casket, then back at Dean's beautiful, rain-streaked face. He's spent his entire life alone, catering to the needs of others. This church is practically his home. He hasn't spoken to his brothers in over a year, and the only friend he has is Samandriel, the college intern. He's never been able to escape his work and focus on his own life before. He doesn't want to turn into Zalponi, with no one at his funeral when the time comes. He wants to start building a future he can look forward to, with someone very special. Someone like Dean.

"I need to call the crematorium," he says again. "And I need to wait until they arrive and take Mr. Zalponi away. Can you wait half an hour?"

Dean slides his hands down Castiel's arms and threads their fingers together. For some inexplicable reason, it almost feels like a perfect fit, the way their hands just slot into place like that. Who knows? Maybe some things _are_ meant to be…

"I'm not going anywhere," Dean says.

And he didn't. Not once, in sixty three years.  


End file.
